<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Herald's Rest by AlwaysPetTheMabari (FamiliarHarper)</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28049871">The Herald's Rest</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/FamiliarHarper/pseuds/AlwaysPetTheMabari'>AlwaysPetTheMabari (FamiliarHarper)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age: Inquisition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Developing Friendships, Drinking to Cope, Gen, Short One Shot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 14:48:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,340</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28049871</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/FamiliarHarper/pseuds/AlwaysPetTheMabari</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Inquisitor Meraad Adaar is struggling after a recent conversation with Dorian, and even visiting Skyhold's tavern just seems to make it worse. Unexpected company proves more helpful than Meraad might have thought.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Male Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Herald's Rest</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The hanging plaque just beside the wooden door still read, "Herald's Rest."</p><p>Meraad usually tried to ignore the sign when he entered, lest it ruin the whole purpose of him coming for a drink. Maker help them if he ever figured out whose idea it had been to name the damn tavern after him.</p><p>Granted, if he was being honest with himself, he probably wouldn't do much of anything at all save shrug it off. If he was feeling particularly snarky about it, he <i>might</i> drop a suggestion to Sera of where to aim her next prank, should the opportunity arise.</p><p> Meraad sighed. Josephine had on more than one occasion insisted it was this gentle humility, contrasted with his imposing bronze-skinned form and long, spiraling horns, that made him so endearing, and her job all the simpler. Meanwhile, Meraad was simply... being himself, whatever <i>that</i> meant anymore.</p><p>Damn that piece of wood hanging above the door. It annoyed him to no end, from the carved, ornately designed text to the painted image of the Bride of the Maker herself supposedly cradling him in her arms. It all still reminded him of what he'd once been called. "Herald of Andraste" was one of far too many names and titles he had acquired at this point, all wrapped up in a thousand pretty ideas the world had come to believe of him as it propped him up higher and higher on a pedestal he'd never asked for, or desired.</p><p>Even his companions, those he usually felt were closest to him, generally used Adaar, his surname.</p><p>Not much better, really: the surname itself was hastily chosen by his mother when circumstances required it, to give the illusion that they had been living long enough in this world of human dominance to take on such a pointless thing. There was a faint memory of a father he'd barely known within Adaar as well of course, not something he generally chose to reflect on. Then finally a reference to the weapon he first became to find a place in the Marches; the weapon he remained for too many people who had seen him kill, time and time again, in the name of repairing a gaping, wounded sky.</p><p>He wished more of them understood why Adaar felt just as false as Herald, or the most recent addition: Inquisitor.</p><p>Meraad glanced down at his left hand where it rested on the bar, currently pulsing a faint, glowing emerald in time with his heart beat, wondering not for the first time what had possibly led to a strange, Tal-Vashoth mage becoming some "brilliant, compassionate savior" in the eyes of so many.</p><p>He missed being Meraad. Just Meraad.</p><p>Granted, he wasn't sure anyone beyond Dorian would give a shit about <i>just Meraad</i> at this point. </p><p>That might even be enough, if Dorian hadn't just told him about his decision to--</p><p>"Hey, Boss."</p><p>Ah, <i>vashedan</i>. Of course Bull was here.</p><p>Bull was always here.</p><p>Meraad stared down into the mug of ale he'd been about to start drinking too quickly, schooled his features into something a bit more neutral, and then looked up to offer Bull a small grin.</p><p>"Hey, Bull."</p><p>The huge Qunari settled into the stool beside him, a surprisingly fluid motion for all that the seating was far too small for the huge man, given that it was nearly too small for himself. Meraad tried to ignore the concern in Bull's eye as he watched him; he just didn't have the capacity to receive that sort of compassion at the moment.</p><p>"Not like you to come in without saying hello."</p><p>"You don't have to watch every pattern, you know," Meraad muttered, exhaling in mild exasperation, "Sometimes people just change their routine."</p><p>"True," Bull said, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. Meraad tensed, recognizing that expression as one of consideration, and fully expecting additional questioning.</p><p>None came.</p><p>Bull lifted a hand to grab the barkeep's attention, and ordered drinks for them both.</p><p>"I already have--"</p><p>"Nah," Bull said, "<i>Maraas-lok</i> will serve you better today. Besides, you can drink that after." He gestured vaguely at Meraad's already full cup, "But not before."</p><p>Meraad sighed, remembering a night not that long ago after they had killed their first dragon. He still did not know if Bull's insistence on the gods awful fire-water of the Qunari was some misguided attempt to reconnect with their mutual, if distant in his case, culture or some personal source of amusement.</p><p>...it might very well be both.</p><p>"As you wish, Bull," Meraad said quietly, "But just one this time. I'm not putting anyone through--"</p><p>"--eh, Dorian won't mind. Under all the complaining about the mud and the cold there's a good man who will gladly pull your hair back."</p><p>"Wait, who's pulling whose hair, now?" an abrupt, high-pitched voice muttered from behind them both, "Why did no one tell me?"</p><p>
  <i>You have got to be...</i>
</p><p>"Ah, Sera!" Bull's voice boomed through the entire tavern, and Meraad thought he heard the bard in the corner abruptly lose her next chord, as a finger slipped and the strings of her lute buzzed against the frets. "Join us!"</p><p>"Suppose I could," Sera replied, then scrunched up her face, "But I'm not drinking any of that burning horse piss you gave me last time."</p><p>"Here, take this," Bull slid Meraad's ale down the bar towards the empty stool on the Inquisitor's opposite side. The small, red-clad elf archer popped up behind him, initially shooting him but a wink, but then narrowing her eyes.</p><p>"You look sad," Sera said, quickly downing a drink of what had previously been Meraad's order.</p><p>"We're not talking about that right now, Sera," Bull murmured, "We're drinking."</p><p>"Ah," Sera said with a shrug, then turned to Meraad and leaned in, "Does that fix it for you, then?"</p><p>Meraad blinked, "Fix--"</p><p>She rolled her eyes, "Getting through the sad shit and back to the good thoughts where any person with <i>sense</i> wants to spend their time. Is it easier for you when you're drunk?"</p><p>Meraad considered this, "I don't know. I just wanted some time--"</p><p>"--if you say alone, I'm going to punch you, sad sack."</p><p>The Iron Bull was audibly laughing now.</p><p>"Now drink your horse piss," Sera muttered as the barkeep returned with taller mugs of the <i>Maraas-lok</i> and put them in front of the two Qunari.</p><p>Meraad sighed, but picked up the mug as directed. He glanced to Bull at his right, who was grinning in the way he did when he knew something was about to go <i>just</i> the way he had predicted. </p><p>Mildly annoyed at how easily Bull could read him sometimes, Meraad instead looked back to his left, just as Sera let out a soft belch, giggled, but then pursed her lips in frustration as she realized that the Inquisitor was still simply sitting there.</p><p>"Hey, you're too slow, aren't you gonna shout your whole..." Sera lifted her left hand to make a tiny horn with her index finger, placing it just behind one long, pointed ear. She then raised the mug with her right and shouted, "A-NOON!"</p><p>"A-<i>naan</i>, Sera," Bull replied, but was still clearly still amused.</p><p>"Yeah, that one. Arse." Sera muttered, "Your turn, Meraad."</p><p>Meraad blinked, then found himself suddenly smiling at the smaller woman. He lifted the mug up towards the ceiling, took a deep breath down from his belly, and then shouted the toast from his core, "ANAAN!"</p><p>"ANAAN!" came Bull's voice a split second later, and all three of them drank together, Bull and Meraad promptly sputtering and coughing shortly thereafter.</p><p>The bard in the corner swore loudly and gave up playing entirely, chucking her lute to the side and storming off through the exterior door. This prompted wide eyed looks between the three inadvertent conspirators, and even louder laughter only a moment later.</p><p>Meraad, <i>just Meraad</i>, having drinks with two friends who maybe understood him a bit more than he'd realized, stopped thinking about the name of the tavern.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi there! Thanks in advance for reading this. If you made it to the end, I genuinely appreciate it.</p><p>This is admittedly just a quick one off to help me do a couple things:</p><p>1.) Actually put some of my thus-far-stuck-in-Google-Docs Dragon Age writing out into the ether of AO3, and convince myself that it merits being here. ^_^;</p><p>2.) Make sure I'm getting voices as I want them for a much longer WIP re: Meraad's mother's story. </p><p>I hope you liked it!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>